


like a promise kept

by lovelyleias



Category: Deltora Quest - Emily Rodda
Genre: F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Post-Canon, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:24:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyleias/pseuds/lovelyleias
Summary: The kingdom gathers to celebrate the marriage of their beloved king to one of their favourite heroes.





	like a promise kept

It was a glorious day. The chill of winter had long since melted into a lovely spring. Bright flowers bloomed in window boxes and gardens. Birds flitted merrily between the trees that dotted the palace hill, and all in Del— and many more from across Deltora— gathered beneath them. 

The crowd began at nearly the top of the hill, and flooded well into the city. People chattered and laughed, embracing their neighbours on such a happy day. Vendors wandered through the masses, selling soft buns stuffed with vegetables and spicy meats, and small cups of ale. Children darted away from their parents and joined their friends, running loose amongst the people, as their king had once done not too long ago. Palace guards dressed in beautiful blue uniforms good-naturedly urged the people to separate into a path.

Doom stood surrounded by his friends. The top of the hill had been saved for the spectators dearest to Lief and Jasmine’s hearts. Everywhere Doom looked, there was someone he knew, and even more that he did not. Several people who had once fought at his side in the Resistance had already come to talk and share news. Manus and many from Raladin played music, and the people of Broome had somehow convinced a large group of Torans to join them in a strange, slightly awkward dance. It was incredible, Doom had to admit, to be able to see just how many lives Lief, Jasmine, and Barda had touched. All were dressed in their best clothes, and all were alight with happiness.

Doom himself had not been in clothes so fine since he was a boy. But these garments were not made by unseen servants, but by Sharn, who had despaired when she had first seen the clothes he had meant to wear. Sharn herself stood beside him, radiant in a yellow dress, her dark hair pulled down across one shoulder. Faint, nearly unnoticeable pink scars still lingered near her temples; reminders of her near-death only months before. 

“They are late,” she said, her forehead furrowed with concern. “I hope they are not delayed by the crowd.”

Doom raised a dark brow. “I am sure the audience will alert us long before we see them.”

“Even so, it will take them an age to walk through all of that.” Ranesh had appeared behind them, silent as ever, even as he bounced tiny Josef on his hip. Sharn stroked a finger against the baby’s soft cheek. 

“It is not a long walk from the forge at all,” Doom told him.

He risked a glance toward the bottom of the crowd, although he knew he would see nothing of interest yet. When he turned back, Sharn bit her lip to hide a smile. 

“Jasmine told me you made her dress,” Doom said, and Sharn’s smile faltered a little. 

“Have you seen it?” She asked, almost anxiously.

“She would not let me.”

As if on cue, the voices of the excited crowd grew to a roar where the base of the city met the swell of the hill. The Torans finally returned to Zeean, and the sweet music of the Ralads became more uniform. Sharn gripped Doom’s arm, and her dark eyes met his.

“Our children,” she mouthed. His large hand covered hers, and he knew that she was thinking of those who could not be there to witness, for he was too. 

The cries of the people rose in waves as the little, hidden procession drew closer. The cries died eerily at once. Doom watches as fingers began to point towards the sky. Sharn let go of his arm with a gasp. Huge shadows passed over the crowd, and Doom turned his face to the clear sky. Seven shining dragons swooped closer and closer to the ground, and Sharn’s hair whipped against Doom’s face by the force of their wings. When the dragons had nearly reached the tops of the tall trees, they drew up again, startling amazed cries as the began flying in a steady spiral in the sky. Doom’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed upon the impossible creatures. 

“Doom!” Sharn’s cry pulled him back to the earth. The cheers of Deltora had grown louder, and the crowd had begun to part a little more. And then— there they were.

Lief wore a splendid tunic of deep purple, which the Belt of Deltora shone brilliantly against in the sunlight. Filli’s little head poked out of his pocket, and Barda was two steps behind him in his uniform. Lief wore on his head a garland of sweet jasmine flowers, weaved by his own hands. The whole kingdom had come to share in his happiness, but he only eyes for Jasmine, whose hand he clutched so tightly.

Jasmine had threaded bright wildflowers of all colours in her mass of black hair, forming something akin to a chaotic, wonderful garden. Kree was perched on one shoulder, staring haughtily at the gathered crowd, and Marilen followed just steps behind, dressed in a pale blue robe. Jasmine’s broad grin flashed against her brown skin, and she laughed at something Lief whispered in her ear.

It was the dress she wore that Doom’s eyes were drawn to. It was a deep, forest green— not bright, like the emerald, or her eyes, but the shade of green that spoke of secrets hidden by deep woods. Thin sleeves stopped just below her shoulders, and the neckline grazed her collarbones. The rest of the dress was loose, so that her movements were free, and yet it flowed like water. The hem was between her knees and ankles, displaying her bare feet. The garment was made of delicate silk, something that would have never been available in Del at the time, but still he recognized it. It was Anna’s wedding dress. 

Doom stepped back involuntarily, and Sharn’s hand returned to his arm.

“I hope this did not upset you,” she whispered in his ear. “You know I kept Anna’s dress hidden when you both left Del. Jasmine wondered if she could wear it, and she was so disheartened when it did not fit. I swore I would recreate it for her, and she asked me not to tell you, for she thought you might not like it…”

Jasmine and Lief grew closer still, and the world around Doom seemed to tilt. He could see Anna in the rough, homespun version she had worn, so happy as she took his hand in hers. He took a deep breath and blinked, and the world was right again. Memory gave way to reality. Jasmine was there, and she was in love— happy after years of hardship. This was not a day to grieve.

“You did a remarkable job,” he told Sharn truthfully through the noise of the crowd, and relief flooded her face, making painful words easier for him to say. “It is a beautiful dress.”

The cheers grew louder as the procession of four entered the massive group of their friends. Whoops and hollers rose from the Broome crowd, and the Dread Gnomes raised their fists in the air. Jasmine looked at the crowd then, her twinkling eyes dancing over her friends, and to Ranesh, then Sharn, and finally Doom. Her eyes lingered on his face a little too long, asking an unreadable, silent question. After a moment, Doom grinned widely, raising his hands and applauding as she passed. Jasmine’s smile broadened and his heart swelled.

Finally, the couple stood atop the hill. Barda clasped Lief’s shoulder, and said something Doom was just far away enough to not be able to hear, although he thought he might have made out the word ‘proud’. Marilen embraced Jasmine, and then stepped with Barda behind the pair. The extraordinarily large crowd fell silent as one. Doom could hear Sharn’s breathing beside him; laboured by tears.

Jasmine smiled and raised her right hand to cup Lief’s cheek, a customary action which he mirrored. Their left hands intertwined. They were silent for a moment, sharing silent secrets with their eyes. When they spoke, it was as if with one voice.

“It is our love, not our duty, that binds us on this day. You will shine in the light of my heart, and when I am lost, I will find my way home by the light of yours. Let my soul be your shelter, let my hands heal your wounds. I will stand against your fears, and I will be the cause of your joy.”

They were ancient words, first spoken by Adin and Zara on their wedding day, then repeated by Deltorans across the centuries. Again, Doom’s memories drifted, and he recalled how he had held Anna’s hand and cupped her cheek as they smiled through their wedding vow with only Crian to witness. She had been so beautiful, her cheeks flushed with joy. Doom glanced at Sharn, whose lips were moving along to the words in her own remembrance, eyes bright with happy tears. 

“We shall be equal in all things, and divided in none,” Jasmine and Lief continued. “Let not war, nor sea, nor enemies part us. When death comes, it will be in my arms that you find rest. On this day, I give to you my soul, my love, my heart. This I vow.”

They were silent again, and after a moment Lief tilted his head so that his forehead pressed against Jasmine’s. Tears were running freely down both of their faces, even as they smiled.

Doom realized, then, just how very lucky he was. Death meant nothing to a man who had lost everything, and that had once been the man he had been. But now he had everything— so many friends, and even a family. And a daughter— an infuriating, brilliant daughter.

Jasmine tilted her head up and raised her other hand so that both cupped Lief’s face. She laughed through her tears and kissed her husband hard. Deafening cheers erupted from the audience, and Doom heard his own voice raise with them. The dragons roared triumphantly from above.

Jasmine had struggled too hard for so long, but washed in sunlight on the hill, she looked so gloriously joyful that it made his heart ache. He could almost imagine Anna beside him. Perhaps her face would be ghosted with the promise of laughter lines, perhaps she would have the occasional grey hair that he had begun to find on his own head.

“Oh, Jarred,” she would smile, threading her arm around his waist. “Look at our happy, darling girl.” 

“Yes,” the man he had once been would tell her, kissing her hair. “She deserves this, and more.”

But Anna could not say those things, and neither could he. Instead, he smiled, and crossed the hill toward his daughter.

He did not have the kind of love or life he had imagined when he was young. None of them did. But they had all found their own kinds of love in the end, and that was enough for them to begin to heal.


End file.
